Smoke Break /Georgenotfound/

՜՞՜10՜՞՜

Not sure why I've been smiling the whole day, but it's such a nice feeling. I have wrinkles from frowning all the time. This is refreshing.

I just couldn't help it. Looking at the flowers, the chocolate, the cookies, remembering George's stupid little jokes - it was all serotonin inducing.

But you know what wasn't? The weather.

It was so hot outside that I canceled all of my plans. I was supposed to go get some coffee with my friend, but the sun was too much - it felt like my skin was about to melt when I went to the balcony.

I've been alone in this house for so long that sometimes I feel the need to talk out loud to prevent myself from going insane. So halfway through trying to take off my shirt and put on something with less fabric, I found myself complaining out loud.

"Why is it so fucking hooooot!"

Ahem. That was louder than I thought it would be.

The whole building probably heard it.

"I know right!"

Of course they heard it. No idea which one of them that was, but it was coming from those guys' house so somebody heard it.

Anyways, I'll just read until it's dark outside and then go to the balcony.

I opened my book and started flipping through the pages - not actually reading anything but the names of the topics. I know this part, don't need to read this part, this is boring, not enough energy for this, I hope there won't be a question about this-

Oh, it's night already! How convenient.

I closed my book and opened the balcony door, a slight breeze welcoming me and cooling down my bare shoulders and collarbones. I decided that I wanted cookies, so I got a plate of them along with some coffee and proceeded to enjoy them in the balcony. And no, I do not care that it's 10 p.m., I am a free woman and nobody can interfere with my little date with myself.

"Good evening," a voice snapped me back to what I was doing, and I realized that I was dipping the cookie into the coffee for some reason.

Did I think it was milk? Probably. Am I going to pretend that it wasn't an accident to not look like an idiot? Totally.

"It's night," I took a bite of the coffee-soaked cookie, and it tasted okay, "want some cookies?"

George rolled his eyes at my smirk as I held the bitten cookie infront of my face.

"Never again," he shook his head.

"Still in shock you lived to this point without having anything with peanuts in it," I couldn't hide my amusement, "how old are you?"

The corners of George's mouth pulled slightly at my question. He leaned against the railing, propping himself on his elbows. And I did the same, facing him.

"How old do you think I am?" He asked, and I already knew that my guess was probably not going to be accurate. People only ask that question only when they look older or younger from their actual age.

But I still could try?

"Hmm," I leaned towards him, even though we were separated by the void between our balconies, trying to take in every single detail and hopefully impress him with my answer, "I think you're somewhere between twenty and twenty-two.. could be younger, actually, I don't see any wrinkles."

His soft laugh filled my ears as he closed his eyes and shook his head no, "Older," he spoke.

"Twenty-four then. You can't possibly be older than that," I was confident with my guess until he laughed again.

"You're getting closer," he must be joking.

"Twenty-five!?" I actually gasped. There's no way he's 5 years older than me. I wouldn't be this surprised if he was younger than me.

"One more~" he dragged the word, waiting for me to say the number.

"You're not twenty-six," I frowned, looking up and down his body, but he seemed very serious, "how are you twenty-six!?"

"I don't know, I guess I was born twenty-six years ago," wow, the sarcasm, "how old are you?"

Still in shock, I thought that it's only fair if I make him guess too.

"What do you think?" I took a bite out of my already crumbling cookie and watched him eye me up and down.

"Let's see," he leaned closer, "you're still a student so I'd say... what were you studying again?"

"Medicine," I answered, now taking a sip of my coffee. Hope he doesn't mind that I'm having a full feast over here.

"So you could be in your forties-"

"Hey!" I know he was trying to make a joke about medschool, but he also called me old.

"I'm just joking. You're like twenty. Or twenty-one," he was so confident with his guess, and the worst part of it was that I infact was twenty, turning twenty-one soon.

"Good job, I guess.." I playfully rolled my eyes and nodded when he asked me if he really got it right.

And then he came up with a disaster of a sentence and didn't even notice what's wrong with it.

"Wow, I'm old enough to be your dad."

I was about to swallow my cookie but changed my mind. I decided to chew it more so I don't choke.

"Well.." I tried my best not to make it obvious that my mind went to entirely another direction, "I don't think my dad had me when he was six but yeah, whatever you say."

He chuckled at my words, looking down at his hands that were fidgeting with each other ontop of the railing. I couldn't help but stare at them too. The way they looked so delicate and perfectly shaped made me mesmerized and jealous at the same time. He could be a hand model. Which made me wonder-

"So what do you do for living?" I know I was being a little nosy, but I couldn't help myself. They all drive expensive cars, afford a house in here, and the rolex he's wearing costs an entire fortune itself.

But I guess my question was infact a little bit too nosy.

"Uuh.." he parted his mouth then sharply lets go of some air through his nose only to press his lips back together in a questionable smile.

Why's he always smiling weirdly?

And was that a hard question? Or is he doing illegal things. I could see him selling drugs. But then again, he's almost always in the house. Who's he selling the drugs to? Our 90 year old neighbors? He has to be working from home.

"It's okay if you don't wanna tell me," I shrugged, totally thinking it wasn't okay how he didn't want to tell me, "just was wondering how you could afford all of these things," and for some reason I decided to make him aware of my growing suspicion.

"What things?" I don't see the reason behind him trying to play stupid.

"These things," I made a hand motion in the air.

"I don't know, how do you afford them?" George narrowed his eyes.

And I had nothing to hide.

"My dad's rich."

So what? My answer was still better than his suspicious behavior.

"There you go, I'm your dad, therefore I'm rich."

He thought he saved himself there with the reference from earlier. If anything, it made me question things even more.